


Love Song, Drug Song

by GentlyTornPromises



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drug Abuse, F/F, M/M, Multi, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, cannon backgrounds do infact apply, dimitri just wants to run a nice club, felix is tired, mentions of drug use, no beta we die like Glenn, rich kids, sorta it's made modern, sylvain is bad at handling pressure, sylvaingst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:28:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21584563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GentlyTornPromises/pseuds/GentlyTornPromises
Summary: Felix's amber eyes were narrowed as they managed to find a semblance of clarity in Sylvain's hazy gaze. "This is the last time I'm gonna put you back together."Unfortunately for them both, Sylvain heard, "I'm gonna put you back together."
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 91





	1. Blink Twice

**Author's Note:**

> Hello this fic wont have in depth description of substance abuse, but it is mentioned, implied, and the side effects of it spoken about. It's Sylaingst with a happy ending though.

Sylvain Jose Gautier was by no means a stupid man. Anyone who believed otherwise had merely fallen for the farce of a fool he presented himself as. Sylvain Jose Gautier was by no means a  _ happy _ man, either. Anyone who believed otherwise had merely fallen for the farce of laugh he offered to the world. 

That wasn’t to say that he didn’t have happy moments, because he surely did. Anytime he could see joy honestly cross any of his friends’ faces, he would feel an echo of it in his own heart. Lately, however, that was happening less and less. Blaiddyd, Fraldarius, Gautier, Galatea. All very important names in the area, hell the country. All very  _ weighty _ names that carried baggage and expectations, and pain. 

Growing up with one of these names wasn’t hard, by the common folks’ standard. After all, they had all been born with a want for naught, and the means to never need to feel such a feeling. And yet, they all had found themselves wanting for the only naught they couldn’t have.

_ An escape _ .

As second borns, Felix and Sylvain weren’t supposed to know this feeling, they weren’t meant to know the burden of their family’s full pressure. They were supposed to live with relative comforts and only worries being staying out of the limelight for the company’s sake. Unfortunately, second borns, meant first replacements. As the only daughter, Ingrid was expected to marry for any sake but her own. Securing connections was the most important thing she could offer- or so they measured her worth. It hadn’t been too bad when she was engaged to a Fraldarius, but there were somethings second sons couldn’t be the first replacement for. And as the first born, Dimtri was given a great weight. His future planned far before he ever even knew the warmth of light. Future Senator. 

Raised together, in the quartet bonded with surprising strength. Perhaps, yes, Sylvain reflected at times, they were forced together, but that hadn’t promised the unyielding, incredibly strong friendship that tethered them together. 

One so strong it let Sylvain be happy when they were.

Which, was becoming less and less frequent. Rubbing his face, Sylvain happened a glance to his phone and took note of the reminder. A grimace, soft groan and his gaze shifted over to the figure lumped on his couch. Prying himself from the comfy furniture, Sylvain reached towards the sky, feeling his spine give a  _ pop, pop, pop _ ! 

Down towards the floor, or rather the legs that were making a bridge to his coffee table. Sylvain gave a few taps, “Fe, it’s time to get going.”

A rather ungrateful noise escaped the pile of far too many blankets on his couch and for a moment, Sylvain felt an echo of happiness. A shake of his messy hair and gentle roll of his eyes went unseen. Using his shin to nudge the legs he had access to, he tried again to coax Felix up and away. “His Highness needs us.”

There was what could only be described as a snarl from under the blankets and Sylvain poorly stifled his laughter. “If you don’t come, I’ll just take my bike, I guess.”

The blankets shifted. A mop of rudely silky blue hair barely failed to hide the glower from amber eyes. “It’s fucking raining.” 

“Huh, then I suppose you should go!”

  
  


* * *

  
  


“So, you really dragged me out here for an empty warehouse?” Felix’s tone was a rather common one, the sign Sylvain knew to mean  _ I will kick your shin _ . For whatever reason, rain made Felix extra grouchy.

“Felix, you need to open your imagination a little, will ya?” Sylvain, with all of the self preservation of a worm, looped his arm around Felix’s shoulders and pulled the cranky man closer to his side. With his free arm, he gestured to the wide space around them. “Take it away, Dimitri, tell us your plans.”

Their “royal highness” managed to dodge Ingrid trying to show him something or another on the tablet long enough to draw closer to his friends, a small glimmer of relief in his expression. For as cool as the man tried to act, Sylvain knew the Blaiddyd heir was secretly quite nervous about  _ many _ things. This club was really the first thing Dimtri had wanted to do for himself. Sylvain couldn’t help but want to see it flourish too, if only for the amount of lovely ladies it could draw in. 

He more so watched Dimitri’s face, the expressions that peeked out from long golden locks, than he more so than he listened to any words that came out of his mouth. Hey, he wasn’t a designer, though he had dated quite a few. Sylvain couldn’t quite find any shame in zoning out, only vaguely looking at the areas Dimitri pointed to and following his friend around, dragging Felix along. It wasn’t long, and really was just them wandering in a loose circle, but Dimitri seemed much more confident in his plans by the end of it, and for that, Sylvain was grateful.

Ingrid pressed the tablet back into Dimitri’s grasp, pointing at something and that’s when Sylvain felt the dull twinge in his shoulder. A glance to his right showed why. Felix was pinching his nerve. 

“I guess I don’t need this arm to drive.”

“Shut up, you were leaning on me.” Right, Felix was right. Though, in Sylvain’s defense, he  _ hadn’t _ been paying attention. The dark haired shorty stepped out from Sylvain’s grasp, and they took a moment to really watch the way Syl’s arm dropped to his side, as if it was lame. Sylvain’s brows rose and his expression seemed mildly impressed.

“I am fully convinced in some past life you were an assassin.”

“Is my punishment for that life getting stuck with you?” Felix quipped and Sylvain’s lips twitched in a smile that was a rather common one that Felix knew to mean  _ Feelings hurt, planning to ignore it. _

“Nah, this is definitely a reward!” Sylvain tried to roll his numb shoulder. He grimaced a little then sighed. Felix shuffled on his feet then eyed the door. As if noticing the duo’s awkwardness, Ingrid looked up.

“Felix don’t you have a meeting in an hour?” She offered and Felix tried not to look weirded out that she seemed to always know their schedules.

“Better go clean up for that, huh?” Sylvain said to Felix, but his eyes met Ingrids and he mouthed a ‘ _ thanks _ ’. Soon he was returning them both to the condo, though it was only to drop Felix off and go about his own antics for the day. 

* * *

Sylvain briefly wondered how he came to this current point, as he often did shortly before he found a new,  _ thrilling _ thing to test his luck against. If he paused for more than ten seconds to contemplate it, he might pinpoint it to the day his brother’s trial was announced.  A thief Gautier, stealing from the company- and client’s coffers. The shame of it all, Miklan hadn’t the need for a single penny he had stolen. But, he had. And the shame to the family it had brought just might have been what tipped Sylvain into his current state.

Or perhaps it had been something else, something from youth he had buried for dead and wasn’t sure how to dig up.

Or perhaps, Sylvain hadn’t a single good reason, he was just fucked up. Eh, well, he never thought too deeply on such matters, so onto the next attempt. 

Today’s menu included the aftermath of a rather wicked amount of alcohol and a bed- not his- with no less than three  _ lovely _ ladies, and if hazy memory served, one pretty feminine man. It honestly hadn’t been a bad night, actually, it had been a  _ great _ night, and Sylvain was just a bit remiss that he couldn’t remember a whole lot about it.

His phone. 

He realized it was still alive, somehow, and that awful, awful sound of his father’s ringtone only caused pain to start thundering into his head. Okay, maybe that moonshine finisher had been a bad idea. Groaning, the redhead snaked his arm around one of his bedmates and pried his phone from under her pillow. Truly amazing, he thought idly, that she hadn’t stirred. If it wasn’t for the rise and fall of her shoulder, he might consider worrying about the state of her pulse. A foot hit the back of his thigh, earning a grunt from Sylvain. 

“‘Rry up and answer that!” Oh, so the man  _ had _ stayed in bed? Fascinating. Sylvain shifted to a seated position and accepted the call he wanted no part of.

“ _ Sylvain Jose Gautier! _ "

“Ah, hello Father. I see we’re in a full name mood today.” Sylvain sighed and then scrunched his nose. Man, his throat was dry. He lightly nudged the green haired fellow beside him and gestured to the water pitcher on the bed side table. Dark blue eyes narrow with a sense of disgust before the twink obliged the request. “To what do I owe the misfortune?”

“ _ Do you have any idea what time it is? _ ” Sir Gautier wasted no time in starting to scold Sylvain for something or another, honestly the 25 year old was more focused on accepting the gift of water and eyeing the man beside him. Hmm, rather pretty, features a bit more delicate than the average man, and hair as long as Felix’s… No, actually a bit longer. He offered the cup back to the bedmate after drinking half of it and his eyes idly watched the way green haired man’s adam’s apple bobbed as he tipped back the rest and downed it in one swallow. 

“Oh, that’s why.” Sylvain forgot he was on the phone, speaking his mind and instantly regretting it when he heard his father’s voice grow even louder. “Father calm down or you’ll have a heart attack, or something. I was listening.”

“ _ Then what did I say? _ ”

“I missed the first part of today’s shareholder’s meeting and you need me there, looking presentable, within the next 40 minutes? You said 20, but I’m taking 40, I really need some Goldenbucks.”

“ _ Stop giving the von Riegans our money! _ ”

“Bye Father.” Sylvain rolled his eyes as he hung up on his still scolding father, knowing that his grave just got a few inches deeper. But, hey, at some point he could just like, fall into it and it’ll be so deep he’d never see the light again! That’d be nice. Maybe.

Glancing at his phone he saw a few notifications from the group chat, mostly Ingrid giving reminders that Sylvain had a business meeting. Oh, about an hour ago. Sylvain hummed and casually sent a coffee sticker to the chat then clicked off his phone screen.

“So, do you like Goldenbucks?”

* * *

_ Linhardt _ , as he learned the other’s name was, did in fact liked Goldenbucks. And partying. And sex. Which, frankly, Sylvain found beautiful and lovely and good. They did swap numbers at the end of their coffee errand and Sylvain wondered if he’d ever actually contact him again.

Maybe not.

Maybe so. 

The redhead looked at the time. He had around 23 minutes until he had to be at the corporate office and he decidingly did not look presentable for an entire conference room of shareholders and their rather beige personalities. Lamenting what was his fate thus far, Sylvain climbed back into his car and made for the condos closest to his father’s office- Ingrid’s.

He invited himself in with her passcode, pausing for a moment, listening to infer if she was home, or out pestering Dimitri. The latter appeared to the conclusion, and so he crossed the threshold and borrowed the guest bath. While it wasn’t as fun to bathe alone, it did give Sylvain a few minutes of reflection as warm water massaged his dehydrated muscles. 

Which, frankly, he disliked.

He decided if the weather stayed clear, he’d go out on his bike later. The water was shut off, along with his thoughts. Stepping out of the shower, he grabbed a towel, starting the process of looking presentable to his father’s stupid shareholders. He made a note to tell Ingrid to get tanner foundation. He had to do a little bit of bronzing to his neck after covering up the marks he couldn’t hide with the red turtleneck he wore under the blazer. He left as breezily as he came, and arrived, somehow, to the office with just 3 minutes to spare.

Maybe he was lucky after all!

* * *

Maybe not.

After the long, exhausting, dreadfully boring shareholder’s meeting, the sky had reopened and Sylvain was left to sigh and finally reopen his precious group chat. He wondered why he seemed to be the only busy one today, the chat having nearly 70 messages he would get the delight in skimming through. Ingrid, Ingrid, Ingrid, Dimitri, Ingrid, Felix. So on and so forth. Apparently Ingrid’s condo had an unwanted visitor drop by, how exciting. Felix’s ever so kind advice was to “fucking change the passcode” while Dimitri tried to halfheartedly scold Sylvain for his antics. 

He sent the chat a funky looking cat waving rather dumbly. It didn’t take too long for him to sink into his car and the blutooth system light up with an incoming conference call from the group chat. “Yellow?” 

“ _Sylvain! Stop using my makeup if you’re not going to clean up after yourself! My brushes are a_ **_mess_**.” Ingrid had made it to all of a count of three before her voice boomed in his car speakers. Sylvain nodded along to her venting as he put on his seat belt and pulled his car into reverse. It was as if her voice was some nice beatbox, rather than an angry childhood friend complaining about a lack of boundaries.

“ _ Why did you call all of us just to yell at him? _ ” Felix’s gruff, forever unhappy voice caused Sylvain to stiffen and have to reposition how he was sitting in his driver’s seat. He knew that tone. His shin ached reflexively. 

“Maybe she wanted witnesses to whatever excuse I muster up.” Sylvain offered, turning on a blinker and pushing down his emotions. He was honestly always uncomfortable when he realized he had truly upset his friends.

“ _ And? _ ” Ah, Dimitri’s deep voice. Sylvain found comfort in it despite himself.

“And what, Your Highness?” Oh, there was that echo of happiness, hearing the soft scoff from Dimitri at the horrible nickname.

“ _ What’s the excuse you’ve mustered? _ Sylvain could almost, just almost, see the patient but weary expression Dimitri probably was wearing. 

“Felix, can you stall for me a little longer?”

“ _ Absolutely not. You can suffer this alone. _ ” Felix snorted and Sylvain smiled. 

“Okay, okay. So,” Sylvain started and went into perhaps too much detail about the morning he had, mildly enjoying the noises of disgust from Ingrid, and sighs of worn patience from Dimitri. Felix, probably, had hung up. Before he managed to reach his condo, the call had ended and once more he was mostly left with his own thoughts.

Huh, he wondered why he didn’t like that.

Then he itched for another distraction. It was raining, which limited his distractions greatly. 

_ Or _ , he thought,  _ I could just go the speed limit. _

He traded one vehicle for another. This one requiring a leather jacket and a helmet, and had about half the wheels of his car and none of the protection from the rain, but a vehicle nonetheless.

* * *

Sylvain Jose Gautier  _ might _ be a stupid man, or perhaps just a reckless one. Anyone who saw the way his bike was completely fucked would at the very least say the latter. 

And Ingrid was certainly saying more than both. Sylvain frowned at her while the nurse tended to the scrapes on his leg and checked his forehead bruise. “Hey, Ing, can we not yell at the maybe concussed?”

Ingrid was polite enough to look sheepish at Sylvain’s word, but that lasted all of four seconds when the front door slammed open and revealed a rather  _ livid _ Felix.

“Gautier!” Sylvain flinched at the shout, though if it was from Felix’s tone or the sheer volume of it, he wasn’t quite sure. 

“Yes, honey?” Actually, maybe worms valued life more than Sylvain did. Dimitri was just barely able to stop Felix from launching himself over the sofa at the lanky redhead. There’s no echo of happiness here, Sylvain sighed. He had managed to worry them all with his antics. Though, in his defense, he hadn’t been actively looking for trouble this time! Just, as always, it had found him instead. Now he knew better than to get cocky with right turns! Live and learn, right? Expressing that didn’t seem to win him any favors. Ingrid offered a defeated sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Why doesn’t spraying you with water work?” She complained, but Sylvain could tell the danger had passed. She wasn’t as worried now, or at least, she had given up on this matter.

“Cause I like ‘em wet.” 

“Dimitri, release him.” Sylvain sputtered a protest as he saw his life flash before his eyes once again that day. Only this time, it was Felix flying at him, not a concrete barrier.

* * *

Relocated to one of the Galatea’s facilities, Sylvain flinched when the cotton swab touched his temple, the wound smarting from the cleaning. Thanks to the coffee table buckling under the weight, both he and Felix had needed an actual looking at instead of a best estimate by an on-call nurse. 

“If you had a brain, I would worry about hitting it.” Felix’s voice snatched Sylvain out of his thoughts and he glanced over to the other man being fussed over. It was quite the sight, indeed. A cut that mirrored his own where their heads had  _ thwacked _ together then hit a sharp, broken edge of the coffee table, and an arm lifted at a right angle while the wound was treated and wrapped. But, at least, Sylvain mused, the cranky one was at least in the mood to chat with him. 

“If only I had a brain, then you’d worry about me!” Sylvain joked, but they both knew it sounded hollow. Both of their statements had been. Felix  _ did _ worry, and Sylvain  _ did _ have a brain. Neither of them were willing to admit to either, however. The nurses eventually left and they were allowed a moment of peace before Ingrid and Dimitri eventually located them and fussed. The redhead found himself sighing. “I won’t do that again.”

“Do something stupid?” 

“No, no, of course not. Just maybe not  _ that _ flavor of stupid. I mean, the poor bike.” Sylvain pretended to sigh, as if the bike had really meant a super lot to him. Though, considerably, one nicer days, it had been a nice mode of transportation. “I guess now I really can’t convince you to ride bitch on one, huh?”

“Absolutely not.” Felix agreed and Sylvain gave a laugh, before looking uncharastically serious.

“I mean it, I won’t do that again. I won’t even get a new bike until you say I can.”

“Then, you’re never getting a motorbike. Try a non motorized one instead.” 

“Aw, Fe, don’t be like that.” Sylvain complained lightly, pouting at his arguably best friend. Felix didn’t respond and the pair fell into a silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t what Sylvain strictly wanted either. With silence came thoughts. And, well, he didn’t quite like those. The itch for a distraction started to prickle at his skin.

* * *

There were few small victories one could claim in the name of Sylvain. Him at least waiting until the obligatory rest period for a concussion passed before finding a new, thrilling, thing to itch his destruction scratch might just be the biggest. Now, now, don’t get hopes up too much, he still lined up dates and enjoyed the pleasures of bodies.

But he didn’t buy a new bike.

Nor did he drink.

He zoned out in meetings, and watched how Dimtri’s club was coming along and waiting. Biding his time. Or perhaps, it was much more comparable to pulling a guitar string much too taut. It would sound out of tune, and it will snap.

And, boy, did he snap. No, no, not at any of his precious, lovely,  _ lonely _ friends. That wouldn’t do anyone any good. This was an escape for him, for his mind’s sake. It didn’t need anyone else to really fall into that ever deeper grave with him.  _ Linhardt _ , ah, right, Linhardt. Professional partier, one hell of a time. Sylvain decided to see what sort of parties Linhardt was invited to.

The kind with a great time, Linhardt had promised, and Sylvain looked forward to it.

Sylvain wondered if it counted as treason to go to another club, well, not that  _ Blue Lion _ was really open yet. He idly mused the scene around him, rumbling speakers, strobing lights, and bodies everywhere doing a bunch of fascinating and distracting things. Dancing, drinking, grinding,  _ oh, that’s not polite for public consumption _ . Sylvain tilted his head, watching with that echo of happiness settling across his shoulders.

“-Vain.” He felt pressure on the back of his leg and turned towards the cause, a rather pretty man with long green hair. “Sylvain.”

“Yes, dear?” He leaned close to drawl the pet name, chuckling when that pretty, pretty face scrunched with distaste. It amused him to see another who shied away from affection in preference for pleasure.

“I said we can go up to the VIP section now.” Linhardt’s eyes glanced up towards the roped off section just beyond the bar and pole dancer. Sylvain took a moment to really appreciate how the lights danced in Linhardt’s eyes, greens and yellows flickering around an ocean. “Sylvain.”

“Yeah, I heard you. Lead the way.” The redhead waved his beer. The shorter man rolled his eyes before slipping through the crowd towards the roped off area. Sylvain trailed after and pressed his chest against Linhardt when they stopped to talk to the bouncer. It was a little odd, not having to offer the man a crumpled 100 or two for access, but Sylvain had a feeling that money would be handed over at the top of these stairs.

Somehow, it was less loud in this area. There was a large, beautiful plane of glass that separated the room overlooking the dancefloor. The rumble of the speakers were muffled, but still mildly shook the space, and the mood lighting was warm instead of flashy. Judging by the scent in the air, there was a reason why. Linhardt slipped away from his side and settled on a couch next to a man Sylvain didn’t let his eyes linger on. 

“Sylvain.”

“Yes, dear?”

“Ugh, just sit down.” Linhardt gestured to the couch across from him before turning to murmur a bit more with the man Sylvain didn’t want to know. The redhead hummed and followed the instruction. Crossing his legs, leaning back into the surprisingly comfortable couch. He propped his arm on the edge of the couch, resting his chin into his palm. He made no attempt to find out what they were up to, only returning to his senses when the dip in his cushion. His eyes found Linhardt’s, none of those greens and yellows dancing in them. The gaze didn’t linger, dropping to Linhardt’s hands. A red brow rose with curiosity and Linhardt offered a small smirk. “Tongue.”

“Usually it’s called a kiss.” Sylvain teased, grinning when Linhardt offered him a bemused expression. Oh, he really enjoyed that expression. Leaning down, he made eye contact with Linhardt, and slowly presented his tongue.The way Linhardt’s annoyance melted into allure struck a chord in in Sylvain. Kissing always felt nice, and Linhardt was admittedly pretty good at it. And as they paused to let the pill melt and seep into his system. 

And boy, that was  _ thrilling. _


	2. Play Nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somethings shouldn't have become habit. Somethings shouldn't come to feel like a routine.
> 
> More implied drug use ahead.

Felix wasn’t entirely sure why he was up as late, admittedly it might have to do with the marathon of a _ridiculously_ addicting show he was trying to only half watch, yet here he was. Now, that wouldn’t strictly be a problem, he could typically convince himself to go to bed after a certain point, but there was something that was currently getting in the way of such plans. Every few moments his phone would vibrate and he’d have to bring himself to ignore it in favor of the bladesmithing on his TV.

It didn’t stop, even into the commercial break. Felix closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling a bottled breath and finding the strength to deal with whatever was about to greet his eyes. A hopeful part of him hoped it was just the friend group bouncing off on some subject that could only be thought of at- oh, 1:45 am. That optimism was oh so quickly crushed as the lockscreen lit up, a winking face, v pose beside an annoyed expression, utterly covered by notifications from a single person.

The air in the condo was _comfortable_ , something Felix was used to, adjusted only for guests and the weather. But in that moment, scanning the screen, it was frigid. Passcodes were quickly pressed, apps scrolled through with haste, and a small map popped up, a radar like circle radiating from a pinpoint that was _much too far away._ If he had a moment to think, he would only grow more concerned why his hands just knew how to do these things so quickly, so practice. Perhaps as a small mercy, Felix had instincts instead of thoughts during these times.

Keys in hand, fear and determination in his step, Felix left his home into the muggy night.

Locating Sylvain wasn’t necessarily the issue at hand. It was locating him in _time_. If there was at least one good grace in Sylvain’s habit, it was at least a nocturnal one. The streets were mostly empty, and greenlights seemed to favor him. The apartment building was worn, not that Felix took the time to properly observe it. The bricks’ paint peeling and roof probably needed replacing, and there might have been a boarded window. The thumping of bass showed Felix where to go, and allowed him easy access to the party. 

He tried to both see everything and nothing at all, his gaze frantic while trying to still seem cool, collected, unbothered. The music was dizzying, coupled with the face pace of his heart and blood rushing in his ears. Still, Felix made his way through the crowd, eyes searching for a familiar tuff of red. In a room that might have once served dinners, Felix found him. A long couch occupied the space and on it was far too many people than reasonable. Still, without a doubt, there he was. Annoyance grew as a quick replacement for worry, Felix storming over to the man. He gave Sylvain’s face a small slap, sharper than strictly required, but by no means bruising. Nothing.

“Sylvain.” Felix tried, but his voice might have gotten lost in the din of the party. He shook the redhead, a sense of urgency pooling in his gut. Nothing. “ _Sylvain._ ”

Annoyance died as quickly as it grew. Not even a groan. Felix grabbed Sylvain’s phone, quickly pocketing it while his mind raced. Where was the closest hospital? How many minutes would it take to get Sylvain there? How many did Sylvain _have_ for him to? Felix refused fear in that moment. He grabbed a concerningly limp wrist and pulled. Part of him hoped that the strength would stir this idiot in some way. That, too, was crushed when all of Sylvain’s weight shifted from the couch right onto Felix’s midsection. 

“Fuck.”

He refused to feel the fear that crept up his spine.

* * *

He had no reason to hide Sylvain's drug use. Actually, he had every reason to shove the ginger into rehab and never allow him to be alone again. But perhaps he was too foolish then, too. Feared what an _actual_ scandal it would be. Feared what Sir Gautier would do.

Picking up after friends wasn’t strictly any of their jobs, but somehow they had all- in some way- found themselves picking up after Sylvain. Despite being the oldest, it really felt sometimes like he was the least mature. So, the younger three were left to pry Sylvain off of any couch he’d passed out on (from lack of sleep, to drinking, to this awful new habit of pills) and dust him off. Of course, this was a relatively _new_ thing. Sylvain, when they had been younger, had been the one who trailed after any of them on any given day with a big smile and the words they needed.

Now see, Felix Hugo Fraldarius wasn’t a cold-hearted man. Anyone who thought he was had fallen for his prickly exterior he slapped on every morning. Felix Hugo Fraldarius, decidedly, was not a brave man, either. Anyone who claimed him to be had no idea of the chronic, paralyzing fear of loss he struggled with.

So he didn't tell anyone about that first night.

Or the next three. Or the four after that. It really wasn't until here he just was, nearly pulled over for speeding, rushing Sylvain to one of Ingrid's long list of hospitals that he thinks:

_Maybe I should tell someone._

He couldn't count the number of nights he'd lost sleep over this new, disturbing matter. Hated that he knew the signs and what he should be expecting in the upcoming hours. He found that he missed who they all were when they were kids. Felix just didn't really know how to get through to Sylvain. Of _all_ the antics this man had come up with, by far this was the most terrifying. 

He's scared. He hated to admit it to even himself, but he was. 

"What am I supposed to do here, Syl?" He muttered quietly. It's never been this bad before, but there was no way to know if it wouldn't happen again (it would). Felix needed to tell _someone_.

His father? No, he would instantly report it to Gautier. Dimitri? Just what would he do besides uselessly worry and make promises he couldn’t keep about some future with stricter drug laws. Y’know, things that wouldn’t help now. Felix found himself scrubbing his face with mild frustration. Why were they all so _useless_? How could none of them be capable of, wait-

Ingrid.

She always had been their logical one. It's late. Very late. Or rather, very early. Regardless, he knew Ingrid was gonna be either extremely pissed or incredibly worried- probably both. But, he was tired of trying to handle this alone so he pulled out his phone and hit 'Call' on her contact, listening to it ring before an exhausted and confused voice answers on the other end, " _Felix?_ "

"Ingrid." When did Felix sound so small and afraid? He decided he hated this feeling, and coughed before trying to form more words. "I didn't mean to wake you.... but."

Ingrid was clearly trying to be patient, he only heard her sighed twice while Felix looked over at Sylvain, resting in the bed now that the danger has passed. 

"It's... Sylvain, he overdosed."

Ingrid gave pause for a moment before she blurted out a disbelieving, " _what?_ " 

She knew Sylvain partook in some rather terrible pastimes but this was still more than she expected. And Felix's voice, well, she hadn't heard it sound like that since Glenn at least. There was a shuffling noise, perhaps her shaking her head. 

" _Which hospital are you at?_ "

"The North Bridge." Felix replied, his voice just barely classifying as a murmur and releasing a shuttered breath. "I... don't know how to fix this one."

Usually once they stopped trying to actively discourage Sylvain in his newest destruction, he would move onto the next thing. This... wasn't something they could really ignore. Felix was wrong to think otherwise.

" _I don't know how either_ ," she admitted softly, " _but I'll do what I can to help you help him_." She added in a more determined voice. 

There was more noise and Felix could easily picture Ingrid as she threw on some oversized hoodie over her admittedly flimsy bed clothes and slipped on her worn out flats. He heard the jingle of keys, the door of the condo announcing her departure. " _I'll be there in a few minutes, ok? And then we can figure it out_."

"... Don't tell Dima." Felix requested softly. Once she agreed, they hung up and Felix stared at the resting redhead. "Wake up so I can kill you."

Perhaps just to keep Sylvain's condition away from his father's knowledge, they weren't in a fancy vip room that hospitals have lately. But, he was at least in a private one, no longer strictly considered an emergency. And Felix was tired. 

Ingrid's entrance startled the dark haired man, hand tapping his hip and then remembering he took that off before coming in to the hospital. "Hey. It's you..."

"Expecting someone else?" She tried to joke, giving Felix a small smirk and a raised eyebrow. Felix said as much as Sylvain did, which was to say.... nothing. He hadn't expected anyone besides her, but in his sleepy state perhaps his father's training was too much. Ingrid soon was distracted by the sight of Sylvain though and her face fell, "oh, Syl... what have you gotten yourself into this time?"

With a few steps she was at his bedside and brushed his bangs out of his face in a sisterly gesture before turning back to Felix, "What happened for him to end up like this? Do you know?"

"I'm sure the nurses said what he had in his system but..." **_I don't remember_ **. Felix couldn't bring himself to admit that. "An overdose."

Ingrid wrapped her arms around herself in an almost hug. She'd hug Felix if he'd allow it, but she didn't want to push it right now, "How did you find him? How did you even know to look for him?"

See... that was the problem with Ingrid. She was smart, she was terrifyingly smart, and logical and Felix knew any answer he said better be the truth. The whole truth, nothing but the truth, or so help all three of them, it'd end poorly. Still, words did not come easily to the dark haired man. There was a pause, and just before Ingrid's patience ran out, his voice cracked. 

"He texts me." Of course he did, they're best friends! "When he gets high. He always texts me nonsensical things. Mixes languages. Makes languages. Key smashes.... and I...."

He can _feel_ Ingrid's eyes on him, but he just couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze. "I usually locate his phone and pick him up. He's never.... done this," Felix loosely gestured to the bed, "before."

Ingrid let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. She was frustrated. Not at Felix, who really shouldn't have to be dealing with this mess. And not really at Sylvain at the moment because she somehow was still more worried than angry, for now anyway. 

"How long has this been going on?" She wanted to know. How long had this been going on without her realizing? With Felix trying to manage the problem all alone.

"Five months." And just about three days, check the time, yeah three days. Felix knew he should have reached out sooner. That was on him. This, in some way, was on him. For a while, there only sound was Sylvain's monitor and the general hushed noises of a hospital wing at 3am. 

Felix was tired. 

"Ingrid... what do we do?"

Ingrid gave Felix a long look before thinking **_Fuck it_ **, and pulling him into a hug, "Even if you don't need one, I do." That usually worked when he wouldn't allow anyone to comfort him, but she intended to stay like this for as long as he needed, or at least would let her. Felix tensed for a moment before slumping fully against Ingrid's stomach, nose pressed to her hoodie. While he didn't return the hug in any obvious way, the fact he leant into her touch singled she had made the right choice. "When he wakes up, we talk. He'll be stuck in the bed and won't be able to avoid the conversation."

"When he wakes up, I'm killing him." There was that growl, a hint of a normal Felix. 

Ingrid chuckled softly, "Definitely. I'll even help hide the evidence. Since you don't need any help with the killing part."

She was content to stand here all night if it meant watching over her idiots and getting them back to their normal selves. After a while, they settled for a bit, Felix pulling away first- he always did- and gesturing for her to sit beside him. Maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe it was the fear, but the few worded man started to softly remind Ingrid of various things they'd gotten up to as children. While Sylvain had been closer to Glenn in age, he always seemed to prefer Ingrid, Felix and Dimitri's company.

When the soft, warm light of an August morning managed to filter through the hospital window, Felix picked up on a change. He stirred, not realizing that both of them had fallen asleep in an awkward, neck aching, position. 

Sylvain's monitor was eyed and he lightly tapped Ingrid's thigh. Their redhead was starting to wake up. Ingrid blinked blearily, but at Felix's taps and the monitor she felt herself wake all at once. She leant forward in her chair in anticipation, she wasn't actually sure what to expect from Sylvain upon waking up after all this. She shared a glance with Felix before softly calling to their friend, "Syl?"

The way Sylvain's heart monitor started to beat rapidly. Felix snorted into his hand despite himself. "He's still instinctively afraid of you. Good."

Ingrid smirked in satisfaction. "As it should be." 

Getting up and cursing how numb his leg was, Felix dragged himself to Sylvain's bedside and tapped his arm. Nothing. "Sylvain we can hear that you're awake."

"No, I'm Sleeping Beauty. A princess should come kiss me." Sylvain's voice sounded down right awful. Coarse from thing crammed down his throat, no water afterwards. Felix narrowed his eyes, pity, guilt and annoyance all rumbled in his chest. As usual, annoyance won, leading Felix to pinch Sylvain's nose until he gasped for air, amber eyes shooting open.

She rolled her eyes at his usual antics, "No princesses here. But definitely a pair of unhappy friends who ought to kick your ass." 

She poured him a glass of water to soothe his throat before he talked anymore. Offering it, and helping him drink it after he calmed down from Felix's unorthodox but effective strategy.

"We need to talk."

Sylvain dragged out finishing the glass of water, he knew it, they knew it, the nurses down the hall just might know it too. Felix folded his arms across his chest and stared down at the redhead.

He was calculating.

Felix hated that. "You won't win this one."

_Sip._

"Stop trying to avoid it, Sylvain."

 _Siiiiip_.

Ingrid gave Sylvain an equally unhappy look, "You don't hurry it up and I’ll dump the rest of this water on you."

"Oh, come on, Ing! I'm just parched." Sylvain tried, and failed, to defend himself. Privately he couldn’t help but think, maybe just this, was why she failed to get into nursing school. Glancing between smoldering amber and frosty mint eyes, Sylvain offered a defeated sigh and plopped back against his now angled bed. "What are the chances of you taking the heart monitor off first?"

"None."

".... Fine."

Ingrid set the now empty cup aside. Crossing her own arms across her chest locking eyes with her bedridden disaster of a friend, "What happened last night, Sylvain?"

Sylvain reached to his head, giving it a few scratches and realizing how uncomfortable that was. After checking his hand, he realized why. An IV drip.

There was a sigh and the weight of expectant eyes kept his gaze lowered. He knew they were worried. He knew he worried them. To claim it was an accident seemed foolish, but it was the truth. To admit he was sort of disappointed to wake up seemed too heavy, but that was true too. 

"Sylv-" Felix's jaw must have been tight with building impatience.

"It was a bad trip, that's all." Sylvain spoke over his friend, keeping his head tilted to his lap and listening to his heart show the weighted truth. "Honestly surprised it hadn't happened sooner. Maybe I took too much, or maybe it was cut with something that didn't agree with me, who knows."

His voice was airy, the same casual tone he used when addressing the weather. Felix was terrified by that fact. 

Ingrid bit down on her lip. Hard. Sucking a harsh breath in through her nose. "A bad trip? Didn't agree with you? That's all!? Sylvain, you could have died!" She could hear her voice quivering more ad she went on and was trying not to just scream. She refused to even look at how Felix was reacting because she knew it would make it all that much worse.

She let her voice go quiet but laid her fear and pain bare, "I was woken up in the dead of night by a call from Felix telling me you were at the Hospital. Do you know what it's like to get that call?" 

This wasn't the first time she's been woken in the middle of the night to bad news. She couldn't bear to have it happen again. She didn't want to think of how close it could have been to Felix finding Sylvain already dead, or dying while on the way to the hospital.

There was a sense of guilt that washed over Sylvain, how could there not be? Ingrid was one of his dearest friends, just as Glenn had been too. He knew just as well as she did how terrifying and painful a middle of the night call was. 

Yet the apology was stuck inside his throat. He couldn't muster the courage to defend himself, let alone properly express his remorse for worrying her. For worrying Felix.

 _Felix_.

Sylvain swallowed around his apology and dared to look at Felix, to see the damage he caused, truly caused. He was met with so much anger, the dark haired man glaring dagger through him and trembling slightly from the grief of it all. 

"You could always just hate me if it's easier." Sylvain said to the room, yet his eyes were stuck on Felix. Ingrid was there, and she mattered, but Felix.... Sylvain needed to push away Felix. 

Ingrid had to call for nurses as Felix launched himself at the redhead in bed.

The blond was glad she had the reflexes she did to hit the call button as she threw herself at Felix. She didn't think he'd actually hurt the redhead, but she hadn't seen him this upset since Glenn either. Felix had been mere seconds away from giving Sylvain a black eye they both knew he deserved. Still, Ingrid was quick, too quick. And Felix was tired. He struggled a bit, to push upwards, dislodge Ingrid.

She managed to catch him by the waist. But not before he managed to catch hold of Sylvain's hospital gown. It left them in an awkward position, which quite frankly, wasn’t uncommon in reality. She was holding Felix back as much as she could but this has left him with his face partially buried in Sylvain's chest and blankets. His yelling and threats were muffled and his body was shaking, she assumed from anger, but a barely audible choked off sob and heave of his chest informed her, anger is only part of it.

She didn’t loosen her grip, but she rested her forehead against Felix's back and addressed Sylvain softly, "We could never hate you, Syl. We love you. And we miss you. And we're worried. We just want to help, but you have to tell us what's wrong and how we can help."

Sylvain could barely stand the sight before him. Felix was suffering. Ingrid was suffering. A pile of pity and grief right in front of him. 

Just as he found the courage to reach for them, nurses charged into the room, prying Felix off of him and rushing to check Sylvain. It took convincing, but Felix was permitted to stay, eyes now red and puffy and refusing to look at Sylvain. 

_Ouch._

Well, he did cause this. Ingrid's imploring look drew his eye and he offered the world's lamest smile. "If ya miss me, just aim better, Ing. I'm right here, after all!"

Deflection. It's all he knew.

Ingrid could feel tears building up at Syl's joke. She knew it was how he was but this was serious. She needed to know he understood and would stop avoiding facing it, "Syl..."

"This isn't a joke! I'm tired of finding you so high you can't even stand! And every time it's worse and worse!" Felix’s fuse had met its end and, thus, he exploded... Though he still refused to look at Sylvain. He hated how vulnerable he felt. Like he wanted to curl into himself and cry until he couldn't anymore.

"You promised you wouldn't leave. That you'd be around..." he uttered softly. Disgust filled him from his own tone. After the burst, he always became so weak.

Sylvain knew this was on him, and that really only had the ability to stop their pain. He did promise Felix not to die. But, frankly, he didn’t want to keep it. He waited for more, either Ingrid or Felix to verbally berate him. He deserved it, he really, really did. Looking at them, he saw why. Ingrid was so strong. Her tears were a silent pain, and dug into Sylvain like small knives. Felix…. Sylvain inhaled a shaky breath. Felix wouldn’t look at him, which was fair…

“Syl, say something.” Ingrid pleaded. Sylvain licked his lips.

“What do you want me to say?” That was the wrong thing, huh? Felix’s eyes widened then narrowed and Sylvain uselessly watched as the dark haired man leave the room. Ingrid quickly wiped her eyes, offering a pained, disappointed look to Sylvain. The ginger nodded his head a few times, as if he understood, as if the serious issue was Felix’s emotions. “Hey, don’t let him drive right now.”

**_Don’t let him go like Glenn._ **

Ingrid lingered for a moment before ducking out of the room too. Her mind was racing with how to fix this. Was there a way to fix this? She would fix this. Sylvain needed rehab. Felix needed a friend. She needed them both to get through this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this chapter written before the first one. From here on out, please only expect about 1 chapter a week. I'm unsure how long this will go, but there should be at least 4-5 chapters total. Thank you everyone who's read so far! Kudos and comments really remind me WHY I liked writing fics back in the day.


	3. Too Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some days, Ingrid found herself staring into her coffee and wondering how any of them survive. Other days, she knows it's purely by their collective stubbornness. 
> 
> And right now, she had to just out stubborn Sylvain.

Sometimes Ingrid forgot how fast Felix could be, thankfully she wasn't slow herself. And she knew the route he was taking. Catching sight of him she sped up until she was able to catch his wrist, "Felix, please."

Jerking away he whirled around to face her blowing up in anger, "Please what, Ingrid!? You heard him in there..." 

"Yea, well, for one I'm not letting you drive like this. Two, I'm not done trying to help. Both of you. So you take a break, and rest and let me handle Syl, and let me be your rock. Please, let yourself lean on and rely on me or Someone, anyone." Ingrid wasn't above pleading at this point, and she really didn't care who Felix picked to go to, as long he wasn't alone.

He leveled a fierce glare at her, but ultimately, he knew she wasn't budging on the matter. Either matter. Letting out a sigh he fished through his pocket and shoved his car keys at her, turning back the way he was heading calling back over his shoulder, "Fine. Good luck. You're going to need it. But right now, I'm going home."

Ingrid inhaled a shaky breath as she cupped the keys between her hands. While she wasn’t sure how he would get home, she knew it wouldn’t be by a reckless drive home, and frankly that's what mattered. She nodded a bit, to herself, and then returned to the fire.

“Sylvain.” 

“You seem surprised that I’m still here.” The redhead attempted a chuckle, but when she failed to even smile, he sighed. “I can’t remove needles, they scare me. So, I’m trapped here.”

“Can you, just for two minutes, cut the crap?” Ingrid implored, causing a look of discomfort to appear across the redhead’s face. “Please. Will you go to….”

“Rehab?” 

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Why not?!” Ingrid’s voice raised, taking a shrill tone. Sylvain closed his eyes for a moment, as if waiting for an alarm noise to silence. Ingrid would be haunted for a few weeks by the brief expression that crossed his dearest friend’s face when those warm honey eyes reopened. The scrunch of Sylvain’s nose and crinkle to his eyes snapped the blond out of her thoughts. “Well?”

“Don’anna.” Sylvain offered as simply as he would the time.

Ingrid Brandl Galatea was not a put together person. When someone claimed thus, it was because they saw her frantic controlling urges as “good management.” Ingrid Brandl Galatea was also not a _strong_ person. Anyone who suggested she was- at least emotionally- failed to remember how utterly broken she was when Glenn passed.

She was wearing her true self in front of Sylvain in that moment, lip caught between teeth to stop trembling and eyes so filled with hurt, she felt like she just might go blind. So, that was the truth of it, then? Sylvain didn’t want to get better? He didn't _want_ to get better. There was simply no way for her voice to not have cracked, “ _why_?”

“I don’t have an answer for that one, Ing.” Sylvain paused before he spoke and Ingrid found herself crumpling onto his bed, just collapsing right across his lap and wishing more than anything he did have one. Having one would mean that they had a place to start, a place to help him from.

“A-and we’re just supposed to what- accept that? This isn’t fair, Sylvain. You…. have always taken on the duty of looking after us. Especially after..” Ingrid trailed off, having to stop and calm her breath before she couldn’t speak through the sobs. She couldn’t look at Sylvain and say this, she realized. She couldn’t look at his face and see him fake through being just fine. None of them were ever _fine_ when bringing up the events of 9 years ago. “Even when we didn’t want your help! Y-you were there, and made sure we… that we got what we needed. So!”

She sharply inhaled and heard Sylvain exhale. She needed to be stubborn. She needed to fix this. “So, even if you don’t want it to be… It’s your turn, Sylvain. Hate me, or whatever, but _please_ , do this for us.”

It was a rare thing, Ingrid begging so earnestly- sure she would bargain, even lightly plea, but this, this level of desperation of both her heart and in her voice- it was rare. But, perhaps, the more shockingly rare thing was her quietly deciding that no matter what Sylvain said, she _would_ go behind his back and get him where he could get help. Of course, it would be better, nicer, easier, for him to just agree willingly. 

A warm hand found her head and suddenly it wasn’t Sylvain’s hospital bed they were on, and it wasn’t the middle of August. It was suddenly 9 years ago in the midst of a _horrible_ June day, and that warm, warm hand was patting her head in an attempt to be soothing. Gently messing up her hair in an attempt to distract her from the gutted feeling in her chest. And just like 9 years ago, Ingrid whimpered as she buried her face more into the blankets. 

Unlike then, Sylvain’s small chuckle wasn’t a calming presence. 

“If you refuse to hate me, how am I even allowed to consider it?” There was a placating tone in Sylvain’s words, and Ingrid was tempted to bite him. She didn’t need to be babied! She needed him to realize where they were, what was happening, and how much it was _hurting_. Perhaps her small fist in the blankets tipped him off, or perhaps he was just that attuned to her. There was a click of his tongue and then an exhale, something a bit more than a true sigh. There was more weight to it. Ingrid felt her hair become tucked behind her ear. “I can’t keep making my best girl cry, right? Especially when she sounds so determined.”

Sylvain somehow always soothed them even when he needed it the most. Ingrid silently swore that one day, someday, he wouldn’t have to.

* * *

Life went on. It always did, didn’t it? No matter what they did, no matter what happened, life as a whole went on. Ingrid found herself both in admiration and in disgust of such a chilling fact. Life didn’t end 9 years ago, not for her, and not for the world. Yet, some days she wish it had. Days like the few following the revelation that she had been _so_ close to her life going on without someone else so, so valuable to her. 

Life went on.

Pains come and go. She straightened her bangs in the rear view mirror before heaving a sigh. It was weighty, though as of late, weren’t all of them? Green met brown and she swallowed down the pain that flared in her heart. Just how close was she to never seeing those honey irises? The way they warmed with laughter and became hidden with the largest of smiles. 

“We’re here.” Sylvain’s voice startled Ingrid, shoulders jumping a little as she pried her eyes away from the redhead and to building she had parked in front of. Of course they were, she had driven them here! 

“I know.”

“Your seatbelt is still on.” Sylvain’s next, incredibly obnoxiously obvious observation earned him a glare. The waxy smile that turned his lips was hard to look at. “Having second thoughts?”

“Absolutely not!” Ingrid pushed the release mechanism and opened her car door. The warm air was somehow cooler than how she felt, annoyance flustering her. The blond took a moment to smooth out her clothes, an action unneeded, but helped her organize her thoughts. When the passenger door didn’t click open, she turned and leaned down, glaring across her car to Sylvain. “Don’t just sit there, Syl. You’re going in.”

“Ing, is now a good time to tell you I have a fear of strangers?” Sylvain offered weakly and Ingrid’s eyes narrowed. “Ah, fine, fine. I didn’t think it’d actually work.”

“Out.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” The door finally opened and Ingrid straightened herself. They both opened the backseat doors, each grabbing a bag, Ingrid’s purse, Sylvain’s gym bag packed to the brim with clothes. “Are they gonna search this?”

“They sure are. Don’t tell me you packed porn.” The doors were closed and Ingrid had to swallow around a lump in her throat. She had poured over the lists. Which one had the best chance of helping. Still, nerves were aflame within her, worries of it not taking, of it failing, of Sylvain just not _trying._ She knew he didn’t want help. She knew how good he was at faking. 

“Now that you mention it, I _wish_. Ugh, they probably don’t allow any in there anyways. Sex addicts, y’know?” Sylvain pretended to rub his neck and act as if he wasn’t an utter sleaze himself. 

“Can you not embarrass me?”

“Oh, so it’s one of yours?”

“No.” Sylvain’s brows rose at that, and Ingrid coughed into her hand before gesturing towards the door. “You’re calculating.”

“Don’t trust Daddy’s empi-”

“ _Sylvain._ Walk.” Ingrid cut her friend off and started the short journey to the rehab’s doors. From the corner of her eye she could tell that Sylvain had offered hands of surrender before trailing after her at a notably slower pace. The younger honestly couldn’t tell if Sylvain was just trying to avoid the overall issue or if this was just him being an annoying older brother in that moment. Both were very realistic options, seeing as if there was _one_ thing he loved more than destroying his own body was annoying his childhood friends. Ingrid huffed, pausing by the door and turning to watch Sylvain misuse his rather long legs to take the world’s greatest expedition to the rehab’s doors. “Gautier, some pep in your step would be greatly appreciated.”

“You can go ahead, I don’t mind.” Sylvain counted and Ingrid wondered if she had anything in her purse that she could clock him in the head with. Tissues were too soft, her phone too pricey, and she wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t just try catching a tampon. So, she took to tapping her toe and wondering _why_ she was trying so hard to get the idiot before her help. 

“If I go in you’ll just call a cab.”

“Ouch.” Sylvain pouted a little as he hurdled up another step and then paused as if it winded him.

“Goddess give me patience.” Ingrid sighed, trying to urge him to go faster with a well angled glare.

“‘Cause if she gave you strength you’d need bail money?” Sylvain finished one of the mantras they were all familiar with her saying- okay maybe just Sylvain. Ingrid’s expression was both quite amusing to the redhead and terrifying. His knees felt a bit weak under her glare, as if replaced by jello. 

Ingrid jolted a little when the door beside her opened. Years of staring into mirrors had caused Ingrid to become a bit unphased by green eyes, and yet. The pair that made eye contact with her just then were so _brilliant_ , she had to blink a few times before taking in the person they belonged to. A brunette with a rather curious expression furrowing her brows stood before her, and those brilliant green eyes made the shift from Ingrid to Sylvain who’s slowly curling lips _terrified_ Ingrid.

Oh, oh no. He had noticed that.

“Can I help you?” The brunette asked them carefully, and Ingrid noticed her scrubs and registered the name as one of the behavioral therapists. Oh great, just _great_. Wait, no, that is great. She could see Sylvain’s behaviors right out the gate so he couldn’t get away with anything! 

“Oh, uhm, just waiting on him so we can get him checked in.” Ingrid stammered a bit and then closed her eyes and inhaled, trying to get herself back to a calm collected Ingrid. 

“Should I bring the sign in paperwork out here then?” The therapist, Dr. Arnault’s voice was rather light, perhaps even playful if such an interpretation was appropriate. 

“I’ll be there soon, don’t worry.” Sylvain waved his hand a bit dismissively as he climbed the next few steps with just a little more effort. He still paused at the top, hemming and hawing at the doors that now stood right before him. Two pretty women waiting for him. If this had been anywhere else in the world, and those pretty women any other ones, the sight would be comforting, lovely even. But, as it was, he wasn’t anywhere else, and those two pretty ladies were two pretty ladies that wouldn’t let him get away with anything.

Ingrid just barely suppressed the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose when she realized that Sylvain was truly, honestly, and wholeheartedly just going to stay there and stare at the building to put off crossing the threshold. “Sylvain, please.”

“I’ll go get the paperwork.” Dr. Arnault hummed beside her and she felt the cool air rush out of the door and across her legs when the therapist headed back inside.

“Oh, dang. I was hoping she’d tell me I could go home.” Sylvain pursed his lips and Ingrid reached into her purse.

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Oh Mommy, please. I love when you threaten me.” Turned out, he could in fact catch tampons when they were pegged towards his head. Ingrid sighed in mild defeat, but straightened herself out when he finally, finally approached her side. “If I took that in, there’d be more questions.” 

She returned her improved projectile the depths of her purse before opening the door. “After you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” It must have finally dawned on Sylvain that he really, really, had to go through with all of this. Ingrid watched as the redhead’s shoulders slumped a little before his lips twisted in that waxy smile and he _waltzed_ into the place, shouldering his bag and perhaps all of his nasty habits into an effort filled unbothered look. 

* * *

It wasn’t until she left, well, wasn’t until she was home in the middle of cooking a meal for two that Ingrid felt the full weight of worry hit her. Had she really left him with the best staff possible? Dr. Arnault did seem capable, beyond so, actually. The woman was beautiful- and no Ingrid wasn't ready to unpack why that's the first thing she thinks anytime she remembered her- and twice as intelligent... But most importantly, she didn’t seem like she would fall for any of Sylvain’s antics. 

It had been refreshing to see her put the redhead in his place. 

Yet, she worried. It festered in her gut and nearly caused the pasta water to boil over as her mind wandered away from the present and into bad timelines. With a squawk she managed to simmer the water. Rubbing her neck, Ingrid habitually checked her phone for messages. Sylvain couldn’t message at this time. In fact, she had only arranged an hour- spread across 20 min intervals with supervision- for him to keep up appearances. This wasn’t starting until tomorrow, and so their group chat was left barren, not even Dimitri seeing it fit to inform them of whatever food Dedue had managed to remind him to eat.

It was lonely. And felt dirty. Keeping all this from Dimitri felt various levels of bad, but what felt worse was remembering how Sylvain’s eyes looked tired and lonely when he finally parted ways with Ingrid. She had been the only one there to go through the paperwork, to be there as he started this _attempt_ to get better. How lonely indeed. There were four of them, yet half of them weren’t there for Sylvain in a moment of need- though, perhaps that was by design on Sylvain’s part.

She stirred the pasta a bit as she reflected on their big brother. The one who went from being the most reliable of the group, to the one that needed to be looked after. Well, that wasn’t a fair or accurate statement. They all needed to be looked after, and Sylvain- for all his issues, _was_ reliable when it was his turn to pick up after one of them. He was responsible, was smart, was so, so, so many good things. But, Ingrid turned off the heat to the stove as she thought, _he fears disappointment so much_.

Felix couldn’t be more disappointed in Sylvain not getting better if he wasn’t there to drop him off. Dimitri couldn’t be disappointed that Sylvain _nearly died_ if he didn’t know. Ingrid lifted the pot from the stove and made quick, heated work, of the water, straining the pasta and wondering if Sylvain worried to disappoint her, too? That could explain why he just _didn’t_ want to go inside the rehab. If he didn’t go, he couldn’t disappoint her if he relapsed. 

The pasta was measured into two plastic containers, evenly so save the few noodles she sneakily ate with her fingers in the process. Red sauce, seasoned at home, was poured over top and the lids were applied. The two containers were placed into a reusable shopping bag as well as a bottle of white wine.

Ingrid habitually checked her phone again, and smiled when she saw that Dimitri messaged the group chat. After opening it and seeing the photo of his food, she gave a laugh. “Thursdays are a pasta night, huh?”

* * *

Being nervous right now didn’t seem to make a lot of sense. Ingrid fussed with her bangs a bit before hearing a ghost of Sylvain’s voice, “ _we’re here._ ” Her eyes flickered over to the empty seat beside her, feeling just a little winded from the lack of a goofy smile to see. 

“I know.” She found herself repeating her words, and repeating her actions. Unbuckling her seatbelt, Ingrid pried herself out of the car and into the humid, yet cooler night. From her backseat she fetched her purse and the bags of food and wine before entering the grandiose building before her. 

The floor below the penthouse was still a rather grand space, and more importantly, it housed a Fraldarius. Her Fraldarius… Their Fraldarius? Ingrid shook her head as she knocked on the door to Felix’s condo and waited. A minute, two. She checked her phone then knocked again. He didn’t have a meeting, and she didn’t hear any blaring music. Another minute, she sighed and pressed the code into the door. 

“It’s rude to ignore guests.” Ingrid found herself saying once she saw that Felix was alive and well and just sitting in a nest of blankets on his couch, glaring at some true crime show. For a split second she thought he hadn’t heard her as she made her way to the kitchen. It was as tidy as she could expect, albeit a few minor dishes sitting in the bottom of the sink.

“It’s rude to just enter someone’s house.” Felix countered, on a delay, but still responsive. She would count that as a victory. Ingrid fussed, looking for wine glasses and forks. “The bottle opener is in the right drawer, Annette moved it again.”

“Ah, thanks.” She located the last item and promptly opened the bottle. Putting the forks into the reusable bag, she slipped that over her wrist and grabbed a hold of the bottle with one hand, and the glasses in the other. It was all brought over to Felix on the couch, Ingrid perching herself on the edge closest to the coffee table. Coasters were found only after Felix nudged them with his toe. Each glass was filled about half way and placed onto their new home before she flicked Felix’s sock covered ankle and fetched the food from the bags.

“I didn’t ask you to feed me.” Felix complained, sitting up and tucking his feet into the safety of his blankets. “What if I ate?”

“Have you eaten?” Ingrid asked, brow lifted with a doubtful expression. Felix’s attention was suddenly back on the television and his lips were pursed. “I thought so. I made pasta!”

“Copying Dedue now?” 

“I made it before Dimitri posted.” Ingrid couldn’t refrain from sticking her tongue out at him. Felix glanced over then let his eyes wander to the containers. “Here, eat!”

“You don’t have to be so pushy.” Felix’s tone was as grumpy as ever, which Ingrid counted as a small blessing. 

“... So, what’cha watching?” Ingrid wasn’t exactly known for small talk, and Felix was thrice as notorious. She passed him a fork and container before opening her own and starting to nestle herself for dinner.

“Cold Cases.” 

“You have the TV tastes of your average middle class woman.” Ingrid rolled her eyes as she twirled her pasta around her fork. 

“Why are you here?” 

“Ouch.” Ingrid paused to eat a few bites of her food and suddenly had an appreciation for Sylvain’s _talent_ in calculation. Unlike him, she wasn’t nearly as skilled at reading people, nor, more importantly, at reading Felix. His words hit her a bit harder than they should, blinded her towards if he was really hurting or was fine. She might have known Felix the same amount of time- give or take a few months- but this version of him she was still learning. “Why are you moping?” 

“I’m not moping.” Felix countered, eyes narrowing as he jammed an unreasonable amount of pasta into his mouth. Now, he was calculating. She could respect that. 

“There’s dishes in your sink.” Ingrid announced, picking up the wine and taking a long sip while Felix’s overconfidence in his consumption abilities foiled him so quickly. He smacked his chest with effort and truly looked as if she was dead meat- as soon as he stopped choking on his food. “Maybe you should drink some wine.”

“Fuck off.” Felix croaked but accepted the glass he was handed, despite it being hers. Ingrid idly watched him down the rest of that cup then place it onto the coaster closer to her. 

“Well?”

“ _What_?”

“Are you going to tell me why you’re moping?” Ingrid attempted again to fish an answer from their least chatty member.

“Oh, I don’t know, Ingrid. Maybe the weather is just particularly hot and I hate it. Maybe my dad requested I give the presentation to our newest client in the morning. Maybe it’s the fact that I almost lost my best friend just three days ago, and I _still_ haven’t seen or heard from him.”

“Ah.”

“ _Ah_?” Felix’s annoyed glare was short lived as he refocused on his meal. “Nevermind.”

“No! No, uh, I meant like, uh, ‘ah, I see’? Wait, that doesn’t sound sincere either…. Dammit.” Ingrid chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. The pair sat in silence, the TV muted but closed captioning offering rather dreadful details about some murder case from decades before. Ingrid was left to fester in her shortcomings, left to come up with a new plan to _help_ Felix and his mood. When they both ran out of pasta, she refilled both of their glasses and geared up for another approach. “I dropped him off.”

“Who?” Felix eyed her with confusion. A new episode started on the TV yet they both knew it wasn’t that important. 

“Sylvain.”

“Dropped him off where?”

“Rehab.” 

“Ah.”

“ _Ah_?” Oh the roles had quickly reversed, but at least Ingrid could see the conflict across Felix’s face now. The dark haired man seemed torn, relieved that Sylvain hadn’t instantly fallen off the face of the map upon release from the hospital, but so, so pissed that he hadn’t been informed of any of this before now.

“I’m surprised he went quietly.” Felix made a show of inhaling before he said that in an airy tone. Ingrid sipped her wine, Sylvain had taught them both something, it seemed.

“Quietly is not the word I would have used.” 

“What would you use?” Ingrid was thankful that Felix was in fact interested in this topic. The current, grumpy, in pain Felix that sat beside her, legs folded mysteriously under his pile of blankets (and he claimed to hate the heat!) was a far cry from the livid, achingly agonized Felix that had left his car keys with her just three days prior. He didn’t seem, at least, ready to wash his hands just yet of their dear friend, and Ingrid was thankful. “Ing?”

“Ah, I was trying to find one. I think I would use lethargic.” Ingrid startled out of her mind only to briefly retreat to remember just how irksome Sylvain had been that morning. “I’ve seen sloths move quicker than he was trying to pull.”

“Sounds about right.” Felix snorted and the pair finished the rest of the bottle, and episode with a clearer air between them. Ingrid explained the situation, bitched about paperwork, and Felix listened and rolled his eyes at certain parts.

“You should really invest in things to throw at him.” Was the conclusion they came to. 

* * *

Ingrid was sometimes nice, and sometimes that meant she was a pushover too. In all her years of knowing her friends she knew they knew that, and that they knew she knew that, too.

Okay, maybe that sometimes was rare, and they knew to take advantage of it any time she offered it, lest none of them come to regret it.

And so, here she was, signing Sylvain out like a child at a daycare. Only, it was 7pm and Sylvain really, truly, honestly had no business being given permission to leave this place just shy of a month into it. 

But, she tried to remind herself, Felix and her would be watching him all night. At Dimitri’s new bar, the nagging voice in her mind added, this was to keep up the ruse of Sylvain just being busier at the Gautier business, but free in the outside world. 

_Surely Sylvain wouldn’t_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this chapter would take me 500 years because I struggle with Ingrid, but turns out, lol, this is the longest chapter so far. 
> 
> This chapter's title is taken from Nervous instead of Love Songs, Drug songs, but uh. It fits better.


	4. Think Twice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri was a busy man, but that didn't mean he didn't still notice things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Undetailed descriptions of body harm (not self inflicted)

Something was amiss. 

Dimitri  _ knew _ that, yet felt that no matter who he turned to, no one would offer him an answer as to what it was. See, Dimitri might appear oblivious, but he was far more perceptive than people really gave him credit for.

He was also busy.

Recently, he had bought a place he would build in and create a club with a wonderful vibe. He was quite focused on such dreams, so while the itch of  _ something _ being wrong lingered, it was too easily pushed into the back of his mind while the seemingly endless list of things that needed to be done piled up before him. 

Building codes, alcohol permits, far too many options for furnishes. He was so incredibly thankful for Ingrid. She was quite organized- or rather good at organizing things for others. He was mostly there to sign the paperwork she brought and flicker through a few design options that furrowed his brows. 

And interviews. He knew his core employees, or rather, knew some of them and then their friends were hired too for spots. Mercedes brought her friend Ashe, both happily being handed roles of bartending and refresher courses for them both starting just a month before the grand opening. Felix’s little Anette with all her earnest intentions was, perhaps clumsily, given a role as a drink server. Dedue would be a wonderful bouncer until Dimitri could find someone else, knowing the man didn’t enjoy being too far from Dimitri. He figured he could move Dedue to the role of manager at some point.

Opening was still a month off.

And something was amiss.

“You are biting your finger again.” Dedue’s deep tone stirred Dimitri from his musings, and he realized that he had been rereading the same supply list for the past fifteen or so minutes. At least Dedue hadn’t been rude enough to point that out. “What is it you are fretting over, Dimitri?”

“Ah, so I am.” Dimitri sighed as if he hadn’t truly noticed the way he worried his thumb red. “Dedue, do you ever feel like you’re  _ missing _ something?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not quite sure… As near as I can tell, the club is right on schedule to open in the next few weeks and yet something feels  _ off _ .” The blond pinched the bridge of his nose and then offered a weak, imploring look to the man beside him.

“You haven’t booked a DJ yet.” Dedue made a small show of looking over all of the various papers laid before them both. The poor dining room table, not a meal eaten on it in at least three months.

“Aha!” Dimitri sounded victorious, beaming a thankful look to Dedue. He set aside the order list and instead fished out the small set of papers, all reports of some sort or another, each offering information such as rates and playlist types of different DJs he could hope to acquire for his club. “They sure have silly names, don’t you think?”

Dedue made a noncommittal noise in response.

-

That was not what was amiss, Dimitri decided nearly two days later when that sinking feeling took up residence in his gut once more. Furnitures were being moved about, Ingrid commanding the movers while Felix was helping remove various glasses from boxes, Ashe and Mercedes cleaning them then finding homes for a fluid reach.

Sylvain. 

Dimitri’s eyes wandered to the door for the upteenth time that hour. Fishing out his phone he checked their group chat. A little 1 was still seated by a lot of their messages. 

“Dima, what do you think of this?” Ingrid’s words draw his attention, the screen turning black and the phone slipping back into his pocket. She had set up a rather cozy space, one of a few that would litter the space around the dance floor, the slightly raised area going to house hightops and stools. 

“That looks fine.” Dimitri replied, a small smile forming on his lips at the excited look Ingrid flashed him. She really was like a cute sister sometimes. The smile faded from his lips when the little voice in the back of his head whispered something about her  _ hiding _ something from him. He must have zoned out briefly because when he blinked next, Ingrid was offering him a concerned face, standing right in front of him. “O-oh, uhm… What was the question?”

“Did you sleep alright?” Ingrid asked, her brows knitting even closer together. 

“I slept fine! I was just thinking about something is all.”

Ingrid eyed him for a moment before ultimately shrugging it off and handing him the tablet. “I was asking if you had settled on a DJ so we can put the advertisements on social media.”

“Oh! Oh, yes, I have. They’ve been booked, let me find the email.” Dimitri fumbled a little with the technology, hearing the repressed giggle from Ingrid. “There!”

The Galatea daughter took back the tablet, eyes scanning the screen and then nodding with an impressed look. “They’re hard to properly book, I’ve heard.”

“Money talks.” Dimitri offered with a light shrug and hoping the ghost of a blush wasn’t showing on his cheeks.

“So does a Goldenbucks date.” Dimitri froze when she offered him a cheeky smile and then took off with the tablet. 

“Ingrid! Don’t read my emails!” The strong, proud looking figure of heir Blaiddyd was slumped with exasperation. “Felix, catch her!”

“Eat dick.” Felix was definitely in a mood, much to the blushing Ashe’s dismay.

Dimitri pouted just a bit before the small sense of play bubbled in him. Ingrid seemed to believe she was no longer in range for a chase, settling near a wall. That was a mistake on her part. Annette was an easily dodged obstacle by Dimitri, though her squeal alerted Ingrid to the bout of pure, utter childishness that was about to transcend.

-

Later, lounged on one of the many couches and checked his phone. That small string of yellow 1s next to the messages glared at him, as they had been for at least two days now. Just as he decided to pull up Sylvain’s contact, the number disappeared.

_ Vainity Flare is typing… _

Dimitri’s eyes narrowed when the message finally popped onto screen, some excuse that sounded three layers of fake. Something was amiss, and he wanted nothing more than to demand to know  _ what _ . He also knew there was a slim to none chance on a good day that Sylvain would be forthcoming. Ultimately, Dimitri just politely caught Sylvain up on what happened that day and enjoyed the amount of “lololol” he received in return.

-

This pattern continued, much to Dimitri’s dismay. Sylvain was usually  _ much _ more responsive to the group chat. Now, at seemingly random times- though in actuality was much more of a routine, Dimitri noted after about a week or so of tracking when Sylvain Jose Gautier’s messages to the  _ Heirs Apparently _ chatroom were dumped in. 

20 minutes a day. Three times a day. 

If it wasn’t for Ingrid and Felix acting  _ obscenely _ normal, he might have assumed that Sylvain had been kidnapped. But, as it were, he hadn’t proof of that. He hadn’t much proof of anything. Asking Felix where the redhead was always turned to “who cares.” Asking Ingrid caused her to prattle off some list of meetings he was somehow to just believe Sylvain went to willingly.

Their Sylvain.

Attending to the affairs of the Gautier business…. On purpose? Without complaining? He considered being quite offended that she believe- they believed he was so dense as to fall for such things. Did they truly think he was that dense to the struggles and behaviors of his closest friends?

Perhaps, he was to some degree. This feeling of  _ missing _ had started some months ago, but the aching sensation really reared its ugly head just these few weeks. Yet, even with the shame of being duped, Dimitri found himself feeling fond for it too. He would trust them, as he always did. Ingrid or Felix, or even Sylvain would eventually come out with the truth. He had to believe they were keeping it for a purpose.

If he didn’t, then they had just betrayed them.

-

He insisted. Multiple times across multiple days as the days until the bar opened entered single digits. He  _ would _ see Sylvain there. The space the redhead took up was so much more noticeable without him in it. To the point even those who didn’t know him as strongly were commenting. 

Dimitri passed along the lie of their rowdy friend just being too busy. His tongue felt heavy afterwards, but Ashe nodded with acceptance and saying he looked forward to the big day. Annette asked a few more times, and each time Dimitri noticed a flicker of pain cross Ingrid or Felix’s face. A darker part of him relished in the sight, but his tongue always felt heavy offering their cheap lies to the curious woman. If they wanted to come clean, they should do so before Annette stopped asking where he was.

They wouldn’t.

Dimitri would simply have to wait. The opening day started as any other day, the slow rising of the sun and a few reports from other businesses he held investments in. It continued with a fleeting lunch he wouldn’t remember the taste of, and Dedue fussing over something or another. 

And an annoying _1_ by his most recent message announcing when he wanted them to arrive.

-

Sylvain Jose Gautier, the man missing for nearly half a month was in fact there. Looking chipper and claiming to be as right as rain. Dimitri pondered for a moment if he hallucinated the sleek clothed redhead leaning on the bar and enjoying seeing Ashe look pointedly everywhere  _ but  _ him. Mercedes asking for help pouring vodka shots was unneeded, they all knew, but Ashe needed the escape before they had to open the doors.

“You’re here.” Dimitri found his voice in a rumble, standing at the end of the bar and looking at the way Sylvain’s gaze shifted before his expression settled on a smirk.

“Wouldn’t miss this for the world, Your Highness.” Sylvain’s voice was a silky purr and Dimitri would have to lie if asked if it didn’t comfort him. Sylvain acting as Sylvain, for all his faults, was something that the blond had sorely missed.

“Funny, it seemed there for a while you were too busy for the world.” He still found himself saying, poking the water, see what stirred. “Would you care to share what stole you away from such a  _ haven _ of your habits?”

“Aw, geeze, I actually was hopin’ to avoid shop talk, Dima.” Sylvain accepted water like a duck, the wink setting Dimitri’s lips into a pressed line.

So, he wouldn’t get any new insight. Mercedes just placed a vodka shot before him and the mild frustration blooming in his gut drew Dimitri’s hand to the glass, knocking it back and then offering a sheepish smile to the surprised look she gave. “Terribly sorry, I suppose I have some nerves. Do pour another for the group round.”

“Of course.” She nodded and refilled the glass. As light as her clap seemed to be, soon the rest of the Lions circled the bar, grabbing a shot and eyes turning to the leader, to Dimitri.

“O-oh! A speech is apt, I suppose.” Dimitri cleared his throat, eyes flickering between each face gathered around him. “To a new start on a dark day, and many others just like it. I’m grateful for every one of you, you’ve stepped up to help make this, and we’ll see it through together.”

“Together!” They chose to chorus his last word, arms raising to a toast before the alcohol was knocked back.

It was far from lost to Dimitri at the worried look Ingrid flashed Sylvain.

-

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd was not a kind man. Those who believed this never saw the boar under his guised smile. Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd was also not a  _ calm _ man. Anyone who figured he was just never saw the holes he’d put into walls, the amount of glass broken in his hands.

Which was why his body made no hesitation in throwing itself between Sylvain and a rather rude looking guest, the former incredibly drunk and the latter incredibly pissed. Or at least at the time that’s how it seemed. Not that it mattered, Dimitri had already gotten between the pair, grabbing the unknown man by his shirt collar. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” 

“He tried not paying me.” The man shoved back against Dimitri, but failed to pry the lion’s grip off. 

“No, no, I said I didn’t have  _ cash _ . I could venmo it just fine.” Sylvain corrected and Dimitri made a mistake in that moment. He looked over to shoot the redhead a very confused look. He watched Sylvain’s expression go from drunkenly smug to horridly terrified. He returned his attention to the disgruntled man just in time to see a flash of silver and feeling a sharp pain, near burning sensation really, start to blossom as half of his world disappeared. Blindly, because it was his right arm, Dimitri reached forward, gripping the man’s throat and applying pressure. “D-Dimitri!”

“ _ How dare you _ ?!” Whatever had been used to attack him clattered to the ground as the man tried to pry his hand off. 

“Dimitri!” Sylvain yelled again and Dedue arrived on the scene. The man was thrown at the large man and finally, Dimitri felt pain in his face. He stumbled back, into Sylvain’s chest and just stared off in the strobing lights of the dance floor, only half registering the chaos starting to unfold around him.

“Sylvain?”

“Y-your Highness?”

“What the fuck caused this?”

“Uh….” 

Sylvain’s somewhat guilty look was the last thing he’d really see for a few hours.

-

“Hey buddy.” Sylvain’s voice was the first Dimitri heard as he started to stir. Slowly the other sounds around filtered into his consciousness. “Feeling okay?”

“Sylvain.”

“That’s not a yes or no.” Dimitri watched as the ginger’s face go from looking hopeful to sheepish to flat out guilty. “Yes, Your Highness?”

“Would you like to explain why I lost half my vision today?" Dimitri half wished he would wake up from whatever this was and realize it was just Opening Day jitters. Because, really, truly, a bar fight, an assault on the  _ owner _ on the first day? He couldn't help but feel like this  _ had _ to be a dream.

"H-hey, the doc sai-"

" _ Sylvain _ ." Dimitri felt exhausted as a third voice cut over the redhead, the blond tilting his head to see Felix and Ingrid entering his hospital room. The latter wore a face of painful concern, the former's entire being hunched with rage.

"H-hey." Sylvain sounded cornered, Dimitri sighed. This was going to go poorly, quickly. Briefly he locked eyes with Ingrid, but the usually confident woman was too guilt ridden to maintain the gaze.

"Do you care yet?!" Felix hissed and even though Dimitri was watching the duo at the foot of his bed, he was confident the redhead flinched. " _ One day _ . You were given one fucking day outside and you couldn't even behave for that?"

Dimitri knew this Felix. He was the same Felix that lashed out when Ingrid broke her arm when they were 12. He was the one who scolded Dimitri over a bloody nose and refused to talk to Sylvain for getting said bloody nose after a  _ childish _ misunderstanding. 

He was a protective, worried, hurting Felix.

And he was going after what caused these feelings: Sylvain. 

"I haven't the faintest what you mean." Sylvain countered and Dimitri subtly grabbed the call button. "I didn't do anything."

"You-" Felix inhaled a breath and for a moment the trio thought  _ maybe _ he'd calm down. Instead, Dimitri felt chills down his spine from how detached, and cold, and  _ done _ Felix sounded, "you win. You win Sylvain. You get to destroy yourself just as you always wanted. I won't stop you, but I won't watch you do it, either. Goodbye, Sylvain. Rot in  _ hell _ ."

"Please, Fe, don-" Ingrid was pushed out of the way when she tried to invervine, keep Felix in the room. She looked so defeated as her back hit the wall, gaze flickering between those in the room and their upset fourth. "Dima…"

"Let him cool off." Dimitri heaved a sigh, expression a little troubled, "catch me up on the  _ truth _ instead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this, all chapters will be Syl or Felix.


	5. Roll Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes strangers offer better perspective than those you've known your whole life.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” 

Sylvain finished a drag on a cigarette (they’re so  _ gross _ , why had he even picked one up?) before he could bring himself to look at Ashe. Slowly, he exhaled the smoke trapped in his lungs, the sensation feeling all sorts of nasty, yet they both knew he didn’t care, He watched as the man across from him folded his arms across his chest and brows knot with a type of worry unique to Ashe Duran. 

“Yep.” Sylvain hummed the word out, clearing his throat and grimacing. Okay, on a list of ways to destroy himself, this was the least fun one. The redhead sighed and pressed his back more into the brick of the club’s alley wall and closed his eyes. He wasn’t allowed inside, or really any space around it. Well earned, to be fair. Dimitri was still covered in a lot of gauze from that rather  _ rambunctious _ opening night. 

He heard the shifting of Ashe’s clothes and felt a shoulder brush his. It wasn’t until he felt the bartender’s fingers hover over his, deftly snatching the cig from his grasp that Sylvain bothered to offer a sideways glance. 

“Aren’t you gonna kick me off the grounds?” Sylvain asked, tilting his head while Ashe flicked the burnt end of the cig off then brought it up to his own lips.

“Yep.” The way smoke trailed out of Ashe’s mouth was almost something Sylvain could romanticize. The sight before him somehow felt too pretty, and too rotten all at once. Ashe’s pure aura felt… marred somehow by such a nasty habit. Still, Sylvain couldn’t bring himself to look away as Ashe took a drag, the end of that nasty cigarette, held it as he rested his head on Sylvain’s shoulder, then blew the smoke back into the air between them. “Why are you here?”

“Can’t I die like the alley cat I am?” Sylvain’s tone was joking, but judging by the way Ashe stomped the butt of their shared cig, he didn’t take too kindly to it. With an airy laugh, the redhead tried backpedaling, yet found himself admitting, “I don’t know what else to do, Ashe.”

“You mean besides the obvious?”  _ Ouch _ , but not unwarranted. Perhaps that blunt, yet genuinely curious way Ashe pointed out things was what attracted Sylvain to the small silverette. More likely, it was still the fact Ashe would tell him ‘no.’ 

“Which obvious are we talking here? The OD and hope it sticks kind, or the get your shit together, you fucking idiot kind?” Sylvain found it hard not to ask, so he gave in to the impulse- as he always did. He felt Ashe lift off his shoulder and turned his eyes to meet the younger’s. The redhead stiffened under the gaze he found. He could feel his pulse pick up and a very faint  _ echo _ of happiness prickle the hair on the back of his neck. Those green eyes, comparable to jade, to mint, to  _ life _ , where utterly ablaze with a righteous fury.

“No one wants you  _ dead _ , Sylvain.” Oh, oh that tone, that spatting of words shouldn’t be a thrill to hear, but Sylvain did plenty of things he shouldn’t already. His expression must have shown something to Ashe, because the glower was quick to soften. Ashe’s hands were so  _ cold _ , Sylvain nearly flinched out of how they cupped his face so, so gently. It was a grasp he could easily pull away from, a touch as fragile as the ice those fingertips felt like. Yet, Sylvain’s eyes briefly closed and he leant into the touch. “I mean that.”

“You do.” Sylvain agreed with a mumble, feeling Ashe’s touch warm the longer he just held Sylvain’s tanned cheeks. While Sylvain had summer freckles, few and far inbetween, Ashe’s skin was like a starmap of them. The longer Sylvain stared down those arms, the more he swore he saw the night sky. “Goddess, you’re so beautiful.”

“Sylvain.” Ashe huffed, retracting his touch and with it, left Sylvain a bit hollow. “This is hardly the time for such words.”

“I’m hardly on time.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Sylvain watched as Ashe tilted his head, one way, then the other, popping a kink or two from his neck before rubbing his nape. “I can’t let you stay here.”

“Yep.”

“So…. I’ll call you a ride.” Ashe rose to his feet, dusting his knees and butt off, and Sylvain would never be so dumb as to lie about watching those pale hands patt such a cute, round thing. 

“You could take me home.”

“Absolutely not. I already have a stray in my bed.” Sylvain hadn’t known he could feel envious of a cat. Huh, well you learn something new every day, right? “And he’s much better behaved.”

“A swing a’n’a miss.” Sylvain hummed, pretending he was a batter before he, too, pried himself from the alley’s gravel, stretching far to the sky, towards the heavens he’d never see. “I could meow, if it’d help.”

“Sylvain.” 

“No, no. Not exasperation, pleasure. Say my name with  _ desire _ , Ashe.” Sylvain grinned and the silverette offered an unimpressed look, arms folding across his chest once more. “What~?”

“It won’t work and you know it.” Ashe wasn’t the  _ only _ person in the world who could turn him down, but he was surely one of the few who did, and did so both firmly and sweetly. “What’s the name of the place?”

“What place?”

“The rehab.”

“Et tu, Duran?” Sylvain’s shoulders slump and he felt just a little like a scolded puppy. He must have perked too quickly at the flicker of hesitation in Ashe’s expression because those endlessly pretty eyes narrowed and his stance turned a bit more firm.

“Oui, et moi, Gautier.” Ashe was honestly someone Sylvain hadn’t the right to look at, let alone speak to. He might sputter and fumble and blush at the drop of a hat- for anyone else, but with Sylvain, he was a squishy looking wall of stern comfort. “So, what’s it called.”

“Hey, hey! I didn’t agree to go back.” Sylvain held out a placating hand, not enjoying the spike of anxiety that had him shifting under Ashe’s unwavering face. 

“You did too.”

“Huh? Where?” Now Sylvain folded his arms across his chest and leveled a dubious look to the smaller man. How the tables had turned… or not. The way Ashe’s face didn’t soften, didn’t return to a squishable, sweet expression. Sylvain shifted uncomfortably at how  _ disappointed _ Ashe looked in him.

“Why are you here?” Ashe asked, voice gentle, unlike the stern expression he wore. It was a question that Sylvain had already heard, had already responded to, and yet Ashe deemed it important enough to ask again. As if he could just force Sylvain to be truly introspective and see all his flaws and bare them all for Ashe to look at and pat his head.

“I didn’t know where else to go.” It wouldn’t work.

“You have a whole condo in a very, very expensive building.”

“And?”

“And no one will visit you there. So, you came here.” Sylvain felt like surely Ashe had touched his face again with how  _ cold _ he felt now. “You came here to grovel, Sylvain.”

Sylvain’s mouth felt dry, his throat felt tight. Maybe he  _ did _ deserve Ashe Duran. The single person on this planet who would tell him what he really didn’t want to hear and yet not mean it in anything less than compassionate concern. Not that his compassionate concern meant much in that moment. Panic wasn’t exactly something that he wore particularly well. Often, it morphed into another, typically unhealthy emotion.

This time he decided that anger was something he wore better. He towered over Ashe, using their height difference to attempt and bully Ashe into taking back what he said. “I’m a Gautier, we  _ don’t grovel _ . I don’t need pity, or babying, or whatever the  _ fuck _ you think you can force upon me. News flash, you can’t. I’m not an actual stray for you to pick up and look after, Ashe. You couldn’t even afford to help me. So, hmm, maybe you should step back an-”

Sylvain’s rant is cut off by his own rant twisting into a yelp of pain, the images of meek little Ashe turning into one of outright anger and a very cold, usually feather light fist caused his vision to redden, blacken for just a moment, and then turn quite blurry. Purely on reflex, Sylvain reached for his face, cradling his left eye, while the right widened with a blend of surprise and pain.

“ _ Fuck off _ with that, Sylvain!” Ashe practically snarled those words out, and honestly, Sylvain just barely registered them. His mind was reeling, trying to really process what happened while pain settled behind his eye. “You really need to think before you… you do anything! I know life sucks,  _ goddess, I know _ … but y’know what else I know? People care. You have people who care, Syl. And you’re trying so, so damn hard to make them not, and for what?! Heartbreak? Kicks? I haven’t been able to figure that out, and goddess help me, I’ve tried.”

“A-Ashe.”

“No, no, you listen. Sylvain Jose  _ Gautier _ , you listen and you let it sink in, this is something long overdue. You need to stop hating yourself.” That sweet, optimistic and kind Ashe was but a mere memory in Sylvain’s heart now. The one he had met half a year ago when Dimitri started this whole venture into running a club. The Ashe that stood before him now looked hurt, yet steeled with determination and  _ compassion _ . “I won’t pretend to know why you’ve become this way, I don’t know your life that deeply, but I don’t really need to. You….  _ You _ are causing all of this. Not your past, not some future you’re tryna avoid,  _ you _ . And it needs to stop. Hating yourself now…. It’s pointless, and hurts way more than you. It's time to forgive yourself, Sylvain… Whatever you think you did to do this… ”

Sylvain was sure that Ashe had more to say. And he was sure that Sylvain would have listened to all of it if his ears would stop ringing. Or if his vision would stop swimming. “Hey-”

“No, don’t try interrupting m-”

“Imma pass out now.” 

“Wh- oh goddess!”

* * *

There were voices, Sylvain noticed as he started to come to. He noticed next that his back sort of hurt but there was an amount of plush under him that was  _ familiar _ . Taking a deep breath in he could smell the hints of pine amongst whatever candle had been burning the night before. Sylvain grimaced a bit as he pieced together just where he might be- and feeling a little remorseful for it. One eye slowly opened to the light, the other aching and stubbornly remaining unhelpful. 

Damn, just how hard did Ashe lay into him?! Unimportant.

His ears finally tuned in properly to the voices, causing Sylvain’s heart to lurch. 

“-een knocked out, how did you get in?” Ah, Felix, asking the important things, like why the bartender thought  _ this _ place was better than his own, what did Ashe called it, whole condo in a very, very expensive building? The very same building they were in, actually, the one right across the hall in fact!

“Uh,”

“Choose your lie carefully, Duran.”

“I broke in?”

“Why?”

“I panicked.” Ashe folded his arms across his chest as Sylvain managed to coax his body into sitting up and accept whatever issues that could cause. “Don’t worry though, the door is fine!”

“I…. I can’t say I’m worried about the door, just the trash you brought in.” Felix’s words dug into Sylvain, not that the older blamed him for saying it. Still, it would be better to have it directed to his face, not the poor, overly helpful Ashe.

“To be fair…. I was knocked out.” 

“Sylvain!” Ashe sounded so relieved, his hands resting over his heart. 

“Were you worried you’re what finally ended me?”

“D-don’t laugh at me! I hit you pretty hard, I guess.” Felix lofted a brow to that.

“Wait,  _ you _ knocked him out?” The raven sounded disbelieving, with a hint of a scoffing chuckle. 

“Hey!” Ashe whined, just because he looked scrawny didn’t mean he couldn’t hit hard, dangit. “Ah, wait, lemme see your eye.”

“It hurts.” Sylvain replied, but then again, a lot of him hurt. Man, he wondered if there was something fun for that he cou-

“Oh Goddess, it’s swollen so badly.” Ashe yanked him from his thoughts with those cold hands gently grasping his face and causing him to look up at those bright, gentle green eyes.

“You’d think with how cold your hands are, it’d be like a natural ice pack.”

“Punch him again, you didn’t knock any sense into him.” Felix piped up and Sylvain broke eye contact with Ashe. There was a tension, one that could be so, so easily fixed by Sylvain apologizing, or leaving, or even just saying  _ something _ , yet he couldn’t bring himself to stop staring at this one thread that was coming loose on the couch. He barely registered movement in the room, but when the chill of ice shocked him, Sylvain finally pried his gaze away.

He expected Ashe, the little thief continuing his unneeded fussing.

Honey met amber instead. Sylvain felt his eye widen with surprise. “Thanks?”

“Don’t.”

“Ah.”

Felix sighed and Sylvain wondered how much he wanted to ruin this. Felix said he didn’t want to see him, yet here they were, Felix staring at him with something just slightly softer than a glare. “Just cover your shame.”

“You’d have to bury me alive.” Sylvain shrugged and realized that hurt. Felix scoffed and looked towards Ashe.

“Get him out of here.” Felix instructed. Sylvain briefly wondered why he’s lost his agency, was it the bury comment? That’s so weak, Fe, come on! Ashe chewed on his bottom lip as he glanced between them. He seemed torn between the order and respecting Sylvain’s ability to be an adult.

“Are you going somewhere?” Ashe asked, tilting his head a bit.

“No, I just want him gone.” And with that, the Fraldarius heir disappeared from the common area. Ashe offered Sylvain the meekest of smiles. 

“Well, you don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here, apparently.” Ashe said after a pause, the silverette realizing that Felix had no intent on returning until Sylvain was out. Ouch, but not unexpected. There was a moment, one of pure introspection, Sylvain had feeling the cool of the ice against his face, sitting in a house he’s no longer welcomed in, looking at the only cheerleader he had left. Huh, he’s done this to himself.

“Hey, Ashe, can you take me somewhere?”

“U-um….”

* * *

“We’re here.” Sylvain mused, startling Ashe, making the bartender realize he had zoned out, perhaps just a little. Yeah! He knew that, he drove them here.

“I-I know. I just didn’t really expect this.” Ashe stammered out and Sylvain chuckled as the younger fluffed his hair, though his eyes were staring out at the building they were parked in front of. “That’s all.”

“Cool, cool, but, uh, can you let me out?” Sylvain pulled the latch of the door, nothing. “You made me sit back here because of the child lock.”

“Right. I did.” Ashe’s fingers drummed over the steering wheel, eyes honed on that front door before Sylvain’s noisy pulling on the door hatch snapped his attention. “Right. Uh. I really am proud of you- I really am, but uh, can you tell me again why I can’t  _ tell _ them I brought you back here?”

There was a pause and then Ashe felt Sylvain’s knees press into the back of his chair as the redhead slumped a bit. “Uh, Sylvain?”

“They wouldn’t care to know.” Sylvain replied and then yelped when Ashe’s arm blindly reached back and smacked his thigh. “H-hey!”

“You’re not allowed to talk like that, mister!” The bartender announced, bending this way and that until he had turned around in the driver's seat to properly look at Sylvain. The redhead offered a snort then squealed when Ashe went after him again. “Try again.”

“Whoever thinks you’re an innocent sweetheart is in for a whole ass plot twist!” Sylvain complained, grabbing Ashe’s hands to stop them from attacking his knees, but ultimately found his fingers laced with the paler’s, loosely holding them. Ashe stuck his tongue out and swung their arms a bit, the angle awkward.

“Why can’t I tell them? Like, what if they ask me?”

“Don’t know why they’d ask, honestly, but you can just tell them, this day was the last day you saw me! No lies needed.” Sylvain grinned cheekily and goddess he forgot how strong Ashe could be, but his fingers surely remembered. “You’re really secretly evil, Ashe.”

“Stop not telling me why.” 

“You’re not the therapist you’re hiding me from.”

“You coulda rolled down the window and opened the door, you wanted to be here.” Ashe saw right through Sylvain with those beautifully perceptive eyes. “So fess your sins and then let me walk you in.”

“Forgive me daddy, I’ve been naughty, it’s been about four years since my last confession. I think I’ve committed adultery in excess, and uh, I’m not sure which one is drug abuse? The sin of gluttony? I think it fits into that.” Sylvain’s brows furrowed in actual contemplation for such a horrid gag. “But, uh, I just don’t want them to know cause like, I’m a fuck up. I fuck up. This place would give them hope.”

“So you think you’ll fuck up after doing this whole thing again? Like seriously trying it?”

“Probably.”

“Hmm, well, you  _ didn’t _ take anything that night, right?”

“Nope, I couldn’t pay to.”

“So, you didn’t.”

“What does that..? I was trying to. The intent was there.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I didn’t.” Sylvain nodded, but he had no idea what Ashe was trying to imply. He had been actively trying to, that was still bad. He had been bad. “Can we either make out or go inside?”

“Inside it is.” Ashe pried his fingers away and the car complained that the keys were still in the engine. He leaned back in to silence it and then, excitedly, Sylvain was freed from the car. Unlike when Ingrid dropped him off, Ashe had no problem herding Sylvain up the steps and to the door. Sylvain wondered if Ashe even wanted to let him go inside, what a 180 from the earlier conversation. The redhead opened the door, bringing them both Ashe to the counter Ingrid had been at a few times, he’s sure. 

“Oh, Mr. Gautier.” 

“Oof, that leaves a bad taste in my mouth, Doctor.” Sylvain licked the top of his mouth and offered a mildly disgusted face. Dr. Arnault looked unimpressed.

“I’m surprised to see you.” Ashe looked startled by that but Sylvain shrugged.

“Me too.”

“A different person is dropping you off?”

“Yep!” Sylvain acted unbothered. He looped an arm around Ashe’s shoulder. “He knocked some sense into me.”

“I was about to ask about the black eye.” The therapist sighed slightly then asked Ashe to check Sylvain properly in. Before the redhead was taken to the patient side, he was given a moment to say goodbye to the little bartender. 

“Remember, no one must know.” Sylvain held a finger to his lips and offered a wink. Ashe rolled his eyes then surprised Sylvain with a peck to his cheek.

“Remember, forgive yourself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was busy with a convention last weekend and brain just managed to put this chapter together today. If you're interested, you can find me on twt (@Sylvaingst).


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